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Two things struck me as unusual. I would have expected the Telegraph message from Nick, he is after all a savvy media hack – and the why aren’t you here yet” message from my researcher, who is a media savvy nag. Odd.
Staying with my mum who is the embodiment of the Thatcher dream; bought her council house, sold it, downsized and now lives in a whitewashed seaside semi in nearby Lytham St Anne’s.
Headed to the Imperial Hotel for a meeting. I was in good time. I had sailed down the Motorway, a very easy journey. Unlike friends on the train who are trapped by engineering works and taking double the normal time to get here.
I realised as I look in the boot of my car for a jacket that I haven’t packed my suit bag. I have left it hanging on the front door knocker of the house as I had become distracted by, and answered the Blackberry when closing the car boot. A normally mild mannered person, it appears that at this moment in time my BlackBerry doesn’t have a mother.
It’s Blackpool, it’s damp. It feels as though all eight and a half thousand delegates have arrived to check into the Imperial at the same time as I have arrived for my meeting. The Hotel reception smells of wet wool and widows weeds.
Another warble, a message from my researcher wanting to know where the hell I am. He should be so stroppy; at least I am already at the hotel which is more than could be said for him. Another message “You are supposed to be in the Wintergardens for an interview with the BBC, get over here now, please” Whoops.
Got into the Wintergardens, just in time for William Hague’s speech – delighted to hear him remind everyone of Brown’s pension fund grab and highlights the fact, it’s something the great Lady, would never have done. Then it’s a quick interview with Sky, followed by the BBC.
Everyone wants to talk about the opinion polls – Labour may be 7% ahead, but that will narrow down during this week, as we earn our conference bounce and then if an election is called, there will be all to play for. The polls mean nothing, until the middle of next week – which is why I doubt Brown will dare go this week.
The early morning damp has lifted, the sun is shining, and I may have no clothes, but I am wearing lovely shoes……. Which is more than can be said for someone else who is here!
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